“I’ve never met anyone like you before!” Frank Wilson held on tight as they banked hard onto 9th street away from where three men had just tried to end him.

“You should be grateful for that.” Cars blared their horns as they weaved in and out of traffic. The hotdog that he had eaten earlier began to creep its way north. He dare not loosen his grip for risk of falling off and being thrown into the on coming cacophony of New York. In the distance Frank heard a siren whaling. It was the flashing of red and blues that made he heart suddenly beat faster. Without warning they ducked into an alley and skidded to a stop as he smashed his face into the back of the leather jacket in front of him. They were at a dead end and fleeing a scene made him an accomplice to what had happened back at his apartment. Whipping his head around, his stomach churned as the sounds grew louder, but they drove right past their makeshift hiding spot.

He dismounted the motorcycle just in time for his stomach to wretch. A small relief came over him as he bent over in pain. The vomit stinging his nostrils. Standing upright, he noticed that the person on the bike had dismounted and walked towards the opening of the alley.

“What happens now?” Frank spat on the ground, trying to clear his mouth of the taste. His rescuer walked back over towards him. Grabbing his arm, and checking for any injuries before mounting the bike again.

“Now you tell me everything you know and why those guys wanted you dead.” Frank hadn’t noticed before, but the voice under the helmet was soothing. He tried to place it, but knew he would be better off not knowing who this stranger was.

“I don’t know. One minute I’m sitting in my apartment watching the news and the next minute I am being dragged into my kitchen and being threatened to have my nuts cut off unless I gave them what they wanted. Which for your information, I don’t have!” Frank could feel his mind start to wonder. He knew he wasn’t the most stand up guy, but he sure wasn’t into anything illegal, at least not the illegal that gets you killed.

“Then why did you have this in your possession?” Ripping out a stack of passports, Frank took a step forward to examine them.

“I’ve never seen those in my life. I’m a garbage man. Not some master criminal.”

“Those men weren’t there to have cookies and milk, so how did you get these?” The mystery savior put the passports back in the side pocket.

“I told you. I’ve never seen those in my life. Now If you don’t mind. I’d like to go home.” Frank began walking towards the traffic, hoping to flag down a willing bystander to give him a lift back towards home, but only go a few feet before being swept off his feet and landing squarely on his backside.

“Clearly you aren’t that bright. Those men will surely be waiting for you. And unlike me, they don’t play nice.” Frank scrambled to his feet. He brushed his hands off and took a step back towards the wall. It was getting darker and he wanted to be as far away from this day as he could.

“They what do you suggest I do? I didn’t sign up for whatever weird shit you got me into.” He huffed as he slowly crouched on the ground.

“You mentioned being a trash guy. Bring anything home lately?” Frank looked as his own reflection in the helmet. He always was bringing things home that others had decided weren’t worth their time.

“Sure. Almost once a week I find something that these people don’t want.” He motioned towards the city. “It’s garbage to them anyway. So I figure, one less item in the landfill.”

“Well Mr. Wilson, I think your dumpster diving may have gotten you in some hot water. So unless you want to end up in a dumpster. I suggest you get back on this bike.” Frank thought for a moment about making run for it, but surely he couldn’t make it very far. Maybe it was just his luck that someone else’s trash turned out to be what would get him killed. Weighing his options, he knew that going home wasn’t an option.”

“Fine. But I’m a garbage man, not a dumpster diver.”